The Woman With Her Legs Apart lives in the
apartment complex next to mine. I think she likes me.
She sits on her couch at night and reads paperback books. She sits with her legs apart, which is why I gave her that name. Sometimes, I catch her peeking over the top of her book, out the one window in her living room, into the one window in my bedroom, across the alley that separates our apartment buildings.
I think she's looking to see if I'm looking. I'm pretty sure she saw me one time, even though I keep my bedroom pretty dark when I'm watching her. She probably just saw some figure moving in the darkness, which could be a scary sort of thing for someone who lives alone, like she does. But she didn't seem scared. She squinted a little, trying to see further into the darkness of my bedroom. But I knew enough to stay still, so as not to give myself away further, and eventually, she just smiled and went back to reading her book.
She didn't close her legs, though.
Ever since then, she's developed a tendency to wear more and more revealing clothes when she sits down to read. She used to wear sweatpants and jeans and stuff. Comfortable stuff. But ever since she got a sense someone was watching her, she's been trying out different wardrobes.
I've seen her sit down to read in a bathrobe, a kimono, a pale yellow sundress, a miniskirt, bike shorts, running shorts, and black lace panties. I wanted to tell her that I really liked the panties and the bike shorts on her, but I think that communicating with her would ruin a good thing that both of us have going.
One night, she sat down wearing just a tattered college sweatshirt, and nothing else, legs apart as usual. I think she spent more time looking towards my window than at her book that night. She seemed nervous-- fidgeting and biting her lip as she read. I think she envisioned that evening as the culmination of a seduction; that she had shown me every aspect of herself, and that it was now time for me to either accept or reject her.
I didn't do anything, though. We sat there, about 35 feet apart from each other, for almost an hour. Then, the Woman With Her Legs Apart got a sad look on her face, stood up, pulling her sweatshirt down over her hips, and went off to bed.
That was about two months ago. She still sits with her legs apart, but she's usually back to wearing jeans and sweatpants again. She doesn't look up at my window as much as she did before, but she still looks up sometimes.
And once, but only once, she wore the panties.